


dress me in trust, shame, lust

by crookedspoon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Bestiality, Breeding, Extremely Dubious Consent, For Science!, Hojo made them do it, Other, POV Aerith Gainsborough, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 16:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: She doesn't need to be an active participant in this. Her body is all they need: a vessel to be filled.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Red XIII | Nanaki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2021





	dress me in trust, shame, lust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



Her eyes are watering in the harsh light glaring down from the ceiling. Even so, she keeps her eyes fixed on them. It's easier that way. Helps her shut out—well, everything: the scientists no doubt ringing the tube-like structure she's in; the sterile air that's just a little too cold on her bare legs; the fact that her hands and feet are strapped and unable to move.

She doesn't need to be an active participant in this. Her body is all they need: a vessel to be filled.

She's lying on her back, her skirts rucked up to her waist and her legs hooked onto stirrups like at the gynaecologist's office. She supposes that makes it easier, too. More clinical. Like this is just another medical procedure to be endured – instead of the poor excuse to satisfy the scientists' sick fantasies that it is. If it were really only about creating offspring, they wouldn't have to watch her mate with an animal. Surely there are other, less direct ways of achieving their goal that would be less humiliating.

No, she can't think of this. She can't let herself be affected. It would mean that Hojo had won. She can't give him that satisfaction. Not after everything he had done to her mother. (Even if everything he had ever done was keep her body for research purposes instead of letting it return to the planet. That would be enough for her to never forgive him. Knowing Hojo, however, her mother's captivity must have been so much worse than that. Otherwise she would not have risked her life trying to get out.)

"You're crying," a low voice observes. She hadn't even noticed the hydraulic _whoosh_ that usually announces his arrival. 

Aerith shakes her head. "It's just the lights." A startled laugh wrenches itself out of her. "I didn't think of them when I asked if we could try it in this position."

"Y-you asked for this?" He sounds startled. Now that she's paying attention, she can hear the definite click of his claws on the polished floor as he prowls around her.

"Yeah," she says as brightly as possible, hoping he doesn't notice how much effort this is taking her. They're both being forced into this and the last thing she wants is to give him the impression that she's somehow blaming him for any of it. "I'm sorry if this makes it more personal, but I thought that if we have to wait around for a while, this might at least be more comfortable."

"I see," he says and falls silent. From the corner of her eyes, she sees his head hang low.

His body language is expressive and although they haven't known each other for long, she gets the sense that he's feeling guilty or ashamed. Or perhaps she is just making that up and projecting her own feelings onto him. Even if they weren't essentially strangers, it's not like they can have a heart-to-heart with all the scientists monitoring their every move.

At least now, with her on her back, they could at least attempt it. Before, she had to lie on some sort of mounting rack that made communication rather difficult. It was meant to accommodate their different body shapes or so she supposes. It allowed her to be on all fours so he could easily take her, but without her straining her knees or wrists. The cushioned surface beneath her torso supported her weight, but it also made it difficult to breathe once he was on top of her.

At first she thought that she could handle this, that it would be over and done with quickly. Of course, that was before she'd felt him swell inside her and realized with a surge of panic that he was knotting her. She hadn't even considered that possibility. Especially not after she'd felt his penile spines scraping her insides raw. 

It was the most humiliating experience of her life, and it was made worse by the fact that neither of them could get away from it right away. They were quite literally stuck. Aerith had wanted to cry, but she'd also promised herself she would never let Hojo see her break down. 

That first time, she didn't ask to have anything adjusted after because she'd believed that Cloud and the others would come for her quickly. She still believes that they would come, but she's become more realistic about it. Surely they would need time to figure out a safe way inside.

Either way, she's glad she asked even if it was humiliating all over again. She feels less exposed than she did before, even with her legs splayed in the air and her most private parts getting cold.

"Do you—" _want to get this over with?_ she begins but doesn't know how to make it sound less dismissive than that. 

She has to remind herself that this is difficult for him, too. As long as his seed doesn't take, they have to keep doing this. And while she has the advantage of being able to flee her body so she doesn't have to feel what's being done to it, he has to take an active part in the proceedings. She wonders how repulsive he must find her, someone not of his own species. The thought makes her feel a little better about her own repulsion, though not by much. His looks may be frightening – his lean build and the scar over his right eye – but she'd sensed that she has nothing to fear from him. He seems to be a kind soul, one who'd never do this by choice.

His ears twitch as he pads between her legs. He hesitates. 

"Do you want me to—?" 

"Yes," she cuts him off, perhaps somewhat too eagerly. "Please."

She's relieved that he's offering. It was embarrassing enough the first time she had to ask him to help her get ready. She would have preferred to do it herself, but her hands are strapped to the table and she can't get herself in the mood with Hojo smiling his oily smile on the other side of the glass. 

She was just about to indulge in the fantasy of scratching his eyes out when Red XIII flicks his tongue over her cunt. Its roughness takes her by surprise every time. In a good way. Every time he licks her clit, a jolt of pleasure rips through her.

It takes no time at all until he's reduced her to a wet and trembling mess simply by dragging his tongue through her folds. If her hands were free, she would thread them through his mane and scritch him behind the ears and hold him right _there—_ but her hands are not free, and so she has to contend herself with writhing against her bonds. It's especially excruciating that she cannot move her legs how she wants – how she _needs._ Heat is pooling low in her gut, swirling outward in waves until even her fingertips are burning with it.

Red's agile tongue manages to nudge her steadily towards orgasm. It just takes a moment longer than it would have with her assistance, and perhaps that's what makes it better.

Aerith keens.

That alone should be mortifying. That she should get off by having her pussy licked by a quadruped with the gift of speech while a handful of creeps stood around and watched them, pretending this was all in the interest of science.

Not that she currently has the capacity for caring. She can never say for certain if it's Red's tongue and what it does to her, or if some kind of aphrodisiac is pumped in through the vents, but once he's stirred her up like this, she just wants him to mount her. Perhaps that thought should be terrifying, but to her, in this state, it only seems like the natural progression of things.

"Okay, I'm ready," she tells him although he must have already noticed.

She's trying to inch closer to him even though the angle of the cushion beneath her pelvis is turning that into a struggle. It's angled upward slightly to make penetration easier for him and to improve her chances of conception later. These Shinra scientists seem to think of everything except the dignity of their 'specimen.'

His claws tick on the table as they come to rest on either side of her. Even though he's not touching her yet, his body exudes warmth like a blazing hearth.

This... this does indeed feel more intimate than having him mount her from behind. 

Ducking his head, he nudges the underside of her jaw as if to apologise for what he is about to do. She wants to reassure him that he has nothing to apologise for, but saying so outright feels wrong to her somehow. And without the use of her hands to stroke him gently she doesn't know how to communicate the sentiment nonverbally.

His expression is quite sorrowful as he lifts his head again and licks her cheek. Another wave of heat rushes through them as she recognises the scent on his tongue as her own.

Her breath hitches as she feels his cock rub against her swollen cunt. She can't see it from here, but she'd noticed the tapered pink tip poke out of its sheath earlier when he was still circling her. The very notion of having it inside her soon makes her even wetter.

He growls in frustration as he fails to hit his aim on the third try. This is another reason she would appreciate the use of her hands. Perhaps this position was not such a good idea, after all.

On the fourth try, she feels him slide inside her. A tiny noise of surprise – and, yes, _delight_ – escapes her. Perhaps she didn't expect him to succeed so soon. Either way, she needs him. Inside her. Deeper. Now. The intensity of these desires overwhelms her. She keeps straining against her bonds. In the morning, her ankles and wrists will be raw, but for now, she can't help herself. 

He pushes out a breath and shakes his head, the tufts of his mane undulating hypnotically. She licks her lips. How she'd love to run her fingers through those tufts.

Finally, he hunkers down and fucks her. The self-loathing frown he'd worn until now slowly but surely melts into one of concentration, and maybe even pleasure. It's hard to tell. Especially when her own mind is clouding over.

The barbs on his cock no longer feel like a thousand tiny pinpricks inside of her the way they did the first time he penetrated her. Instead, they're scratching her desire at the root, stoking it into something that keeps her whole body on edge. She teeters on this edge, thrumming with anticipation, but that is all she does. It is over way too soon.

His paws are hot against her thighs when he comes, but hotter still is his seed that's filling her and the knot that's plugging her up. He's panting now and his haunches are trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright. She's trembling, too, ready to come again but unable to get herself off. All she can do is clench around his knot, which is good but also not quite enough. It just makes her more restless. 

Gradually, both their trembling subsides and he settles on top of her as it does, resting his head between her breasts. She no longer feels the slight chill (or the leering eyes) that had kept her from undressing completely before. Now, her dress is soaked through with sweat and she wishes she could just take it off. She wants to feel his warm fur against her naked skin.

As they catch their breath like this, her mood shifts again. The arousal from earlier is making way to wistfulness. It may be a silly thought after all that's happened, but a part of her is sad that he's not humanoid like her – that she cannot kiss him the way she kissed Zack.

Her heart clenches as it always does when memories of him resurface. Usually, she lets them bubble up and fill her with the fondness of old, but now she shuts the door on them tightly. She doesn't want to get trapped in a game of comparison, which is all too easy to do. 

Red XIII breathes out warmly against her skin, almost like one last sigh before falling asleep. She'd had so many things to say to him when she was taken here, but none of them seem important enough to bring up now. Perhaps she should just go ahead and demand that he be allowed to visit her in her prison cell so that they can get to know each other better. If her scientific reasoning is sound enough, not even Hojo would be able to deny her.

But those are thoughts for some other time. For now, she's content to stay in this moment and ignore the circumstances surrounding it. As long as neither of them ackowledges these circumstances, they can pretend that they had chosen to be here with the other of their own free will. And that the fire burning low in their stomach is one borne of lust, not out of shame and self-loathing.

**Author's Note:**

> Nanaki's ff7 wiki page calls him a "lion or wolf-like beast" so in terms of genital anatomy, "why not both?" :D


End file.
